


In The Heat of Summer

by WindySuspirations



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Experimental Style, F/M, Making Out, POV Second Person, Sparring, Undefined Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 22:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/pseuds/WindySuspirations
Summary: It's summer in Skyhold and it's hot. Cullen and the Iron Bull are sparring, and Bull isn't the only one not wearing a shirt. You get a front row seat to the action, and the temperature just shot up about a hundred degrees!





	In The Heat of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cullen Appreciation Week 2017 - Day 2: Commander Cullen
> 
> I am ambivalent about this fic. It's the first time I've written in second person, and I am not sure if it works. Also, I know that sparring trope has been done to death.
> 
> Thank you to 0102and03 for the beta!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please let me know in the comments what you think!

 The summer sun high in the sky greets you as you exit the Great Hall, trying to escape the endless prattle and demands of the simpering nobles your position forces you to deal with. As the cool breeze fluttering through the tree branches ghosts over your hot skin, you sigh in relief, happy to be free of the stifling air inside the keep.

As you hop down the steps to the courtyard,  you turn your head to the raucous shouting ringing out from the training yard where a crowd has gathered. Curious, you increase your pace as you jog toward it. When you draw closer, you curse your diminutive height because you can't see anything over the heads of people circled around the fenced-in area.

"Show 'im, Commander!" someone shouts near the front of the crowd.

"That's the way!"

You frown. Cullen? He’s fighting someone in the ring?

The clashing sounds of steel on steel reach your ears as well as the grunts of the fighting men and an embarrassing heat pools between your legs. Maker, you have to know. You push forward and as the onlookers notice who is jostling them for space, step aside to allow you through. Being Inquisitor has some perks, after all.

When you get to the fence, the sight your eyes behold stuns you into silent motionlessness. Dancing around the Iron Bull with a grace that no man his size should possess is Cullen, your Commander, and the man you have been pining for since the moment you saw him on the battlefield near the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And he is completely bare-chested.

You think you might faint as you watch him deftly block an attack from the Iron Bull with his shield and jab forward with his own sword. Sweat glistens on the rippling muscles of his chest, shoulders, and arms as he brings his sword up to catch the head of Bull's great ax with a force that shoves the larger man back.

You finally have some answers to things about him that you've wondered about, alone in your bed late at night. Things like, for example, does he have hair on his chest? He, in fact, does: soft golden down covers his pectorals, now darkened with sweat which narrows into a trail that arrows down his impossibly toned abdomen and disappears into the waistband of his pants...which are hanging low over his muscled hips. You bite your lower lip. Maker, if those breeches fall any lower, you’ll get the answers to the other questions you have about your Commander’s gorgeous body.

You scrabble up the fence and perch there to watch the rest of the fight. The Iron Bull has strength and stamina on his side, but Cullen has agility and tactical experience. The two warriors are evenly matched and watching them spar is a joy.

"Hey, Cullen," Bull calls out as he tries to get in a blow under the ex-Templar's shield. " Thought you oughta know. You got a special audience."

Cullen neatly blocks him and casts a quick glance toward the sidelines. You can tell when he spots you, for his eyes widen and his defense falters for a second. Taking advantage of the distraction, Bull lands a glancing blow to Cullen's left shoulder. You gasp, covering your mouth as Cullen staggers backward under its force. But Cullen recovers and maintains his balance, shifting his stance and swinging his sword threateningly.

"Now that was a dirty trick, Bull, " Cullen hisses through his exerted panting.  A dangerous smirk crosses his lips. “But it doesn’t matter — I’ll still best you!”

He launches himself into a leaping spin, performing a shield bash that stuns the big Qunari and lets him land a  hard blow against the other’s large hand with the haft of his sword, sending his opponent’s great ax flying to the other side of the arena. Sticking his sword into the ground, tip first, he tosses away his shield and offers his hand.

 "Do you concede?"

Bull laughs loudly and engulfs Cullen's hand in a hearty shake. "Yeah, I concede," he says. "Appreciate the spar, Commander." The crowd erupts in loud cheers of victory and congratulations for the Commander.

 “It was a good fight. Thank you for helping me  with this demonstration."  Cullen nods to Bull, clapping him on the bicep, then turns to the recruits gathered on one side of the training yard. "And that is how you can best a much larger and stronger opponent."

The young recruits, apparently impressed by their fierce and experienced Commander, send up a rousing cheer. You watch as he gives them some further instructions before dismissing them for the afternoon. The sun shines down on his blond head,  picking up the paler strands in his golden hair. Would it feel as smooth as it looks? You shake your head to get rid of the image of you running your hands through his thick locks. He is the Inquisition’s Commander, and you are the Inquisitor. There is a war going on, and you have no time for such foolishness.

You are about to jump off the fence when you notice that on his way to the Herald’s Rest, Bull has stopped beside Cullen to tell him something, nodding his horned head in your direction. You can’t quite hear what he says, but Cullen shoots a quick glance at you and his cheeks pinken slightly. Bull grins wide and gives the Commander a shove toward you. What were they talking about?

You don’t have long to wonder, because as Bull leaves the ring, Cullen faces you and regards you with his golden eyes. The intensity of his stare unnerves you a little...okay, it unnerves you a lot, and you nearly topple backward over the fence when he starts walking toward you. No, he is stalking toward you, with all the savage grace of the lion he is nicknamed for.

And then he is in front of you, all 6 feet plus of him, so close that you can see the droplets of sweat clinging to his chest hair. You watch a droplet run from his collarbone down to where the hair is thickest at the center of his chest and swallow, very aware of the heat of him standing before you. You dare to glance up, and Maker, you almost wish you hadn’t because he’s looking at you with heated golden eyes.  He places one hand on the fence on either side of you and continues appraising you, one corner of his mouth turned up in that smirk that always makes you melt.

He raises one honey eyebrow and says "So, Inquisitor, did you enjoy the show?"

You blink and stare into his eyes."I —  yes, I did," you stutter helplessly. The scent of fresh sweat, dirt, and man is nearly overwhelming.

"I'm glad to hear it," he murmurs and leans in closer. "And now, my lady, I seek a small token of your...appreciation. Would you allow your humble Commander this?"

That golden stare is anything but humble. You lick our lips; your mouth has gone as dry as the Hissing Wastes. “W-what do you want?”

A warm chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Nothing so onerous, dear lady, I assure you. “ A hand comes up to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger so that you can’t look away from his gaze. “It is only a kiss I seek. Surely you would not begrudge a man so little?”

So little, indeed. What would he say if you told him that you fear you might explode into a million pieces at the touch of his lips? That you’ve dreamed about kissing him every night since Haven? You lick your lips again, clenching your hands into fists to prevent them from reaching out to touch all that tempting skin that was so close, even as you feel yourself leaning forward toward him.

“Yes, alright, Commander,” you rasp out, your voice cracking from the dryness in your throat.

His smirk widens into a grin that shows off his beautiful white teeth. He leans in again and covers your lips with his. His lips are surprisingly soft, and the outline of his scar presses against your mouth. What would he do if you licked it?

Then his tongue presses against the seam of your lips, asking for entry, and already drunk on his nearness, you open for him. He slips it inside your mouth and explores its contours, sliding against yours, so slick, wet and delicious. Boy does the man know how to kiss!

And he tastes so good, of peppermint and his unique flavor  — better than you ever dreamed on those lonely nights alone in your tent. You drink him in and slide your own tongue against his, kissing him back with a fervor that you are pretty sure you've never felt for anyone else. He tilts his head and slants his hot mouth over yours to deepen the kiss, and one of his hands buries itself in your hair while your own wrap around his neck. When he lifts you off the fence and pulls you against him, your legs find his waist and wrap around him.

The kiss goes on and on, and you don’t want it to stop; you would happily die in his arms. Your erect nipples, separated from his hot skin by only the thin fabric of your sleeveless camisole, brush against his hard chest. A needy moan rises from your chest as his strong hands cup your ass and press you firmly against his erection. You grind against it, desperately seeking friction to assuage the ardor rapidly taking over your mind and body.

“Atta girl, Quiz!” It’s Sera’s voice, carrying down from her room above the tavern.  Other sounds come to you then, too: the hoots and hollers of the crowd that hasn’t yet broken up and are now shouting out encouragements to Cullen. Your cheeks heat as you pull away from his lips and he chases after the kiss before leaning back, one brow arching in question.

“You should let me down now, Commander,” you whisper.  “We, um,  have an audience.”

But he does not release you. Instead, the insufferable man tightens his grip on you and that damn sexy smirk of his turns up the scarred corner of his mouth.This close up, you can see each little crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and Maker, how you would love to kiss each one.

“If you think I am letting you go now when I have just discovered what a fiery minx you are, you are quite mistaken.”  With one hand holding onto you, he vaults over the fence, using his other hand for leverage and stalks through the crowd, making for the stairs to the battlements.

“Where are you taking me?” The pool of fire between your legs threatens to engulf you because you think you already know the answer.

He glances down at you, taking the steps two at a time. “To my chambers, Inquisitor. I need to debrief you  in private about some important…matters.”

“Oh.”

You smile, waving to the soldiers you pass as your Commander carries you off to have his way with you. You couldn’t be more pleased.


End file.
